The sleepiness has set in; reading a book is so not the way to combat it either. I’m reading The Zombie Survival Guide. I have heard many good things about it but as of page 12, it’s pretty basic and, truthfully, sort of boring. I hear it gets better so I’ll push on through. But I might have to get some coffee before I can move on.
Coffee having been acquired… this building smells like reheated fish. Like if your mom made salmon last night with maybe a light lemon butter sauce and you nuked it in the microwave, that’s what the Williams building second floor stinks like. When I got pregnant, I somehow developed a keener sense of smell; this have has never gone away.
It’s warm outside today with a nearly cloudless sky. I wish I could walk down to Landis Green and take a nap on the grass. Or at least work with my book. I was in the National Art Honors Society in high school and I loved doing any kind of mixed media project or just plain painting. It’s been a long time since I have devoted any amount of time to being creative like that and I can tell you, it’s a welcome reprieve from having BABY as the sole thing on my mind.
I’d like to get a hot glue gun.
I have little to no money this week.
Elliot has been continually stuffy for… a month now? Yeah, that’s about right. He has to unlatch during feeding a lot so he can catch his breath, or so it seems. I have his crib elevated at one end and I am running his new humidifier but nothing appears to help; he’s still waking up. We’ve also fed him oatmeal now, twice. Granted, it wasn’t very much and as you may know, half of that ends up on his bib, his thigh, the floor, the dog, my hands, etc. I am hoping that once he groks this concept of spoon, then we can start feeding him more and then – supposedly – he’ll sleep better. Or so I have been told about oatmeal.
Sometimes when Elliot looks up at me, whether from his Bumbo seat or the Papasan, I can see in his face the little boy he will become. It brings me both immeasurable joy and utmost fear the sorts of things we will experience together as he becomes older, more aware… his own person. I think now how I can hold him as close to me as I want and whisper in his ear that it’s all going to be ok. And maybe I’m getting too far ahead of myself each time I think about a day in the future when he won’t need me to do that, when he won’t want me to do that. I know it’s awful to think that I’ve already started to have these thoughts; I don’t need him to grow up any faster than he already is. But it is inevitable.
One hour and 40 minutes to go before I’m outta this joint. Hope everyone is having a good Monday.